


Bachelors All

by TheGoodDoctor



Series: Squad Goals [11]
Category: James Bond (Craig movies)
Genre: Alcohol, Friendship, Gen, Marriage, rampant four weddings and a funeral references, the odd pride and prejudice one too
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-01-11
Updated: 2018-01-11
Packaged: 2019-03-03 14:51:18
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,040
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13343508
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheGoodDoctor/pseuds/TheGoodDoctor
Summary: “I like weddings,” Eve announces. “Even if I haven’t much of an outside chance of eventually being involved in one.”“Now who’s quoting Hugh Grant,” Bill says.“And only the bloody sad bits, too,” Gareth mutters, making Bill and Eve exchange amused glances.





	Bachelors All

“Can you _imagine_ ,” Eve says, flattening her palms on the table in front of her, grin sharp with schadenfreude. “Your baby introvert son brings home his first serious boyfriend and you’re thinking, oh, probably bookish and nerdy like our boy, and he brings home big, blond and built like a brick out-house _James Bond._ ”

Bill almost snorts into his beer, hand over his mouth to avoid spraying her. “God,” he sputters. “I mean - what do you do? He’s tall! He’s terse! He’s terrifying!”

“He’s not that bad,” Mallory says, sipping his white wine.

The other two give him twin “are you serious” faces. “Put yourself in the shoes of the small middle-aged lady you know Q’s mother to be,” Eve says.

“Strip away your years of military and paramilitary training. Ignore all that anti-terrorism stuff you’ve done,” Bill adds.

“Oh, and feel parental,” Eve finishes.

Mallory thinks about this. He nods in concession.

“And then he announces he’s going to _marry_ this man - oh, and also we can’t tell you what he does for a living,” Eve says, peeling her palms off the sticky pub table to better gesticulate around her mojito. “But no-one’s going to look at James and think _secret accountant_.”

“Accountants can be tall and muscular,” Mallory protests mildly, easily the most sober of the three.

He is ignored. “The wedding-” Bill manages, before cutting himself off for seemingly no reason. “It’s just your side of the family and three shady people who are definitely not his relatives and can’t give you a straight answer about their jobs.”

“We’re not shady!” Eve objects. “We look totally normal.”

Gareth looks slowly around them at the empty tables which - coincidentally, of course - surround their own corner table, despite the bar being packed, and permits himself a small smile. “And in our further defence, Eve and I had excellent answers prepared.”

“I was busy!” Bill protests.

“Pulling a Four-Weddings-and-a-Funeral, Hugh Grant edition, and being late,” Gareth says dryly.

“My car broke down!”

“And your point is?” he says, fighting a smile as Bill splutters and Eve cackles.

“It would have been unsafe. And, y’know, better late than... _late_. Heh.” Bill looks inordinately proud of himself and Gareth rolls his eyes.

Eve pokes her boss deliberately in the upper arm with a manicured talon. “Hey. What’s with your crazy knowledge of Hugh Grant films?”

He sighs. “I referenced one plot point from one film. It’s not like I quoted his entire filmography at you.”

She narrows her eyes, unconvinced.

Gareth sighs again and finishes his wine. “I have hidden depths,” he says, in his best posh authority voice, and Eve laughs, delighted.

“Aren’t you supposed to be worried when shady people turn up at the funeral, not the wedding?” Bill says, head on one hand and brows furrowed. The other hand draws patterns in the condensation on his beer glass. It appears to be requiring a great deal of concentration. “That’s what all the spy novels have - suited strangers at the funeral.”

Gareth looks from him to Eve. “Come on then,” he tells her, “spill. I like Hugh Grant films, Bill reads spy novels despite being an actual real-life spy - what’s your media oddity of choice?”

Bill laughs, drinking more of his beer, and Eve grins. “You’ll never know,” she announces dramatically.

“When I die,” Bill says, leaning back now to flop over the back of his chair, “I’m going to hire people to be all suited and secretive at my funeral.”

Eve blinks. “Bill, you know just a few seconds ago, when we were talking about you being an actual real-life spy?”

“We’re going to be the suited secret agents at your funeral. Free of charge,” Gareth says.

Bill blinks at the ceiling. “Oh, yeah.”

Eve chugs the remainder of her mojito and chases it with the last inch of Tanner’s beer. Gareth winces with her. “Blech. Okay, we’ve probably had enough now, if Bill can’t remember his own job.”

Bill sits up. “Can I finish my beer?”

“You did,” Gareth tells him, lying for what is probably his own good, and almost certainly for Eve’s. She sticks her tongue out in remembered disgust.

“Oh. Okay.”

* * *

“It was a good wedding, though.”

Gareth tugs Bill further from the road by the tail of his coat as he weaves down the pavement. “Yes, it was.”

“I was very pretty,” Eve says, twirling down the street from one pool of amber light to another as if still wearing her baby blue gown.

“Yes, you were,” Gareth smiles.

“Gareth even danced,” Bill says. “And don’t you dare say _yes I did_ ,” he adds, in a rare glimpse of sobriety.

Obediently Gareth closes his mouth. “I’ve always liked a good Scottish reel.”

“You were even better than James,” Eve says. “He’s still not forgiven you, you know.”

Gareth grins, smug and proud. Bill swings an arm around Eve’s shoulders. “We did our best, you and me.”

She wraps her arm around his waist. “We did. And we weren’t even awful, either.”

Bill nods happily. “That’s going right on the CV.”

“Looking for another job?” Gareth says, amused, eyes idly tracking the traffic beside them.

He shakes his head. “Nope. Which is just as well, since it says stuff like _not even awful at Scottish dancing_.”

Gareth laughs and Eve grabs his hand, swinging it between them with a bright grin up at him. “I think Hazel’s in love with you,” she says, matter-of-factly.

He raises his eyebrows in astonishment. “Wh-why? Whatever for?”

Eve turns her head dramatically to look at Bill. “What do you recommend to encourage affection?”

“Dancing,” he replies, matching her serious expression before corpsing into a grin. “Jane Austen knew what she was about.”

“She’s - twelve, or something,” Gareth says with no small amount of distress.

“Eighteen, now, but Q’s poor mother would still never allow it so you’re safe,” Bill says.

Eve squeezes his hand in reassurance, then looks mock-reprimanding. “But really, if you will insist on wearing a nice suit and sweeping impressionable young ladies off their feet, dancing very smartly with them all night, they are going to end up half in love with you,” she says seriously.

“I didn’t mean to,” Gareth manages. “Sophie had her girlfriend to dance with, and it didn’t seem fair that Hazel shouldn’t get to dance too.”

Bill smiles at him. “It was nice of you. It’s not the end of the world.”

Gareth runs a hand through the remainder of his hair and checks the traffic for the three of them before they cross the road. “How do you imagine their honeymoon is going?” he says, changing the subject.

Bill pulls a face. “I  try not to,” he says.

Eve grins wickedly. “I imagine they’re having a _splendid_ time.”

Gareth considers their responses for a moment and then an answer hits him like a damp fish to the face. “Oh - I didn’t - surely they’re doing other things as well?”

Eve hums, unconvinced. “This is James Bond we’re talking about here. He’s famous in the service for being a good agent, driving too fast and-”

“Yes, I know,” Gareth interrupts, to Eve’s amusement. “Probably won’t even see the _outside_ of the Louvre,” he adds, melancholy at their missed opportunities.

They walk in silence for a while. “What’s Q think about it?” Bill says.

Gareth frowns. “The Louvre?” Bill rolls his eyes.

“James’ reputation, you mean?” Eve asks and Bill hums in confirmation. “He knew about it way before he fell in love with the man. He must have made his peace with it by now.”

“But what if he hasn’t?” Bill says unhappily, staring at his feet as they wander through the streets. “James still goes out on missions and seduces people, even if it isn’t as many and only when absolutely needed, and they’re _married_ now.”

“You’re sobering up, aren’t you,” Gareth says. Bill nods morosely. _Should have let him drink the rest of his beer._

Eve squeezes his waist. “Billiam. You worry too much.” Gareth smothers a smile at the face Bill makes in response to his new nickname.

“Yes - probably - but.” He sighs. “You know poor communication gets me.”

Gareth raises an eyebrow and Eve nods. “He’s a nightmare over romcoms.” She shakes him gently. “They’re fine. Promise.”

He rubs his forehead. “Sorry. I just - you know.”

Eve and Gareth smile at him. “We know,” he says.

There is a lull and a fine mizzle descends over London. “I like weddings,” Eve announces at last. “Even if I haven’t much of an outside chance of eventually being involved in one.”

“Now who’s quoting Hugh Grant,” Bill says.

“And only the bloody sad bits, too,” Gareth mutters, making Bill and Eve exchange amused glances.

“I do, though,” she says, returning to her original point. “I’ve never been to a wedding where I wasn’t happy or terminally bored, which is better than I can say for most things.”

“So when are you going to kidnap some nice-enough fellow to perform the office?” Gareth says, ducking an overhanging branch from the park they’re passing.

“Can’t promise we’ll approve, but we’ll manage civility for you,” Bill adds.

“We’d all know him to be generally unworthy of you; but this would be nothing if you really liked him,” Gareth quotes solemnly. Bill grins, bright enough to make any half-remembered O-Level knowledge worth dredging up.

Eve squeezes one hand and one waist, scrunching up her nose. “Don’t be silly. Even if James wasn’t personally involved there’d be a pretty serious vetting from work. And my parents.” She sighs. “Nah, it’s all sounding like far too much work.”

“Sorry,” Gareth offers.

“Why?”

He frowns and looks down. “Not sure. Just sort of - am.”

Bill grins at him around Eve. “You’re not actually the embodiment of MI6, you know. It’s not your fault.”

M shrugs. “Suppose not.”

“It’s sounding rather miraculous that James and Q got together at all, honestly,” Eve says, frowning into the damp mist. “Though, I suppose they _are_ both spies. The secrecy thing doesn’t do it for me.”

“Anyone told you you’re in the wrong profession?” Bill says mildly and she pulls away to swat his side before tucking herself back into his hold. “No, I do see what you mean. Too close to lying for my taste.”

“And of course, there’s your famed dislike of miscommunication,” Gareth adds.

“Exactly! I’m safer with just the dog.”

“I’m pleased they found each other though,” Eve says. “They’re much happier now. And that makes Bill happy, which makes me happy, and - honestly Gareth just seems happy to be here.”

He chuckles. “And I am. But I’m pleased for them too.”

“Living vicariously through their relationship is good for us all,” Bill announces.

“Shame we’re so bad at doing any of it on our own, really,” Eve says with a wry smile. “Look, even with them gone all we do is talk about them. We’re hardly even making an effort to meet new people.”

Gareth pulls a face and Bill laughs. “And that, there, is why not. We oughtn’t really complain.”

Eve tosses her head back. “No! We’re strong and independent and don’t need a man.” Gareth nods seriously to make Bill laugh again. “Or even two. We’d find things to talk about even without the James and Q-fueled gossip reserves.”

“Absolutely,” Bill says. There is a pause. “Soo, Yusef and Tilda are renewing their vows next month, we could always go to that.” Eve laughs and Gareth ducks his head to hide his amusement.

“We’re dreadful at this,” Eve says happily. “At least we’ve got each other.”

“We could have a wedding anyway,” Bill suggests, and the others look at him curiously. “Except without the wedding part. So, guests, cake, dressing up, dancing-”

“A party,” Eve interrupts. “That’s what that is. A party.” Gareth fights a grin.

Bill considers this. “Yeah!” he says cheerfully, the amusement dancing in his eyes a sign that he is perfectly happy laughing at himself.

Eve laughs, bright and loud, and Gareth dissolves into giggles, stumbling over the uneven pavement.

“Brilliant,” Eve says around her amusement. “We’ll have a big party set up and book a church and not get married.”

Bill nods with great solemnity. “Very Hugh Grant indeed.”


End file.
